


never, never, never.

by caticoo



Series: archer's empty heart. [2]
Category: Fire Emblem Series, Fire Emblem: If | Fire Emblem: Fates
Genre: Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, Fluff and Angst, He deserves more, M/M, Possibly Unrequited Love, i love writing Kiragi angst
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-10-20
Updated: 2016-10-20
Packaged: 2018-08-23 13:47:54
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,417
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8330179
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/caticoo/pseuds/caticoo
Summary: And perhaps that’s why he fell in love with him, several years later. Kiragi wanted to think otherwise — he didn’t want to blame something such as time for his feelings. But it was difficult, pinpointing the exact time and place and reason to why his outlook of Hisame suddenly changed — it was simply so easy to blame something so obvious such as the time spent together. Perhaps it was. Perhaps it wasn’t. Either way, Kiragi was not taking such as an answer to why he suddenly felt attracted to his friend. Never, never, never.





	

**Author's Note:**

> hi. my name is cati! i love kiragi with a burning passion.  
> this is a second in a series which is marked here on AO3 called "archer's empty heart" (LMAO). you might be familiar with the first one, "he with his shattered heart", which is a percy/kiragi fanfiction.  
> as you can see, this is not a percy/kiragi fanfiction. this is for another one of my passionate kiragi ships, kiragi/hisame, centering in a modern time. here, kiragi and hisame are childhood friends for reasons explained in the fanfic.
> 
> this one is for @acerbicsamurai on tumblr. i lov u shira.  
> i hope you enjoy this. i wrote it in two hours too, so i apologize if it sounds Edgy(TM) OTL,;;

Hisame has always been Kiragi's best friend.

Simply put it straight — Kiragi’s life is not one of a whim’s fairytale. It is not something written down by an empty string of fate, by pages and pages, and many more to come, to end solemnly and soundly, strewn with love. Hah. Those sorts of stories amused him when he was younger — and he was gullible enough to believe his own life would play similarly to those stories. All the little boys and girls did. Most did, anyhow. Kiragi was one of them. Daydreaming back to back, some nights, the thought shrouding — rescuing a princess in a body of armor, a stronger, more durable build than the childish one he was confined to. Yes, he believed that he’d become that knight in shining armor, the one that was inked in pages told to him.

What those inked pages did not tell him, however, was how to handle the problems at task — his own lost tale of love that was not even a tale of love to begin with. He was unsure how the ending would lay out — tales of romance and heartbeats and wooing were those that ended happily, right? All for Romeo and Juliet — he was old enough to understand that at least such tale of romance did not end up well. But still, in the end of it all, Romeo and Juliet were together, in a different life, perhaps — would it be the same for him? The fairytales he was told as a youngling, and the following stories of love and affections that followed, becoming more and more realistic, such as a drunken high school fling, or a long distance relation attempting to stay afloat — that only made him believe more in himself.

But what those stories did not cover was how on Earth he was supposed to deal with the fact he was in love with a childhood friend of his. No, no, not a girl — a boy. And he, Kiragi, was a boy as well … at first, it all simply did not add up to him. Why was he feeling the way a girl should have felt about him? Why was he feeling feelings at all? Is there a boundary he crossed with being friends with him? Friends? Best friends? Close friends? Was lover too out of the ball park? Did he even have those chances? Often times the boy would find himself pondering over such necessities — the involuntary feelings, that he knew were genuine if so. However, more than his constant worries over how things would turn up on that last page, of the story called his life, he distracted him. He was Hisame.

Call it the fate of Kiragi’s own if you will. Their friendship played out almost like the romance novels Kiragi read — childhood friends, blossoming from such and growing alongside one another. Except, their friendship did not bloom from one defending the other from getting bullied, or one accidentally kicking the other in the face, or even them getting in a childhood fight and making up afterwards — no, it was something that Kiragi truly had no control over. See, Hisame’s father, Hinata, was a close friend of his own’s — and them turning up around the same age, there was no question that the two boys would often see each other. Of course, Kiragi was around his older cousin, Shiro, more often than he was Hisame — but Shiro had one thing that Hisame did not have, and that was the same blood.

And perhaps that’s why he fell in love with him, several years later. Kiragi wanted to think otherwise — he didn’t want to blame something such as time for his feelings. But it was difficult, pinpointing the exact time and place and reason to why his outlook of Hisame suddenly changed — it was simply so easy to blame something so obvious such as the time spent together. Perhaps it was. Perhaps it wasn’t. Either way, Kiragi was not taking such as an answer to why he suddenly felt attracted to his friend. Never, never, never.

It was like any normal afternoon — Kiragi led a simple life. After all, he hardly had to worry for items such as money or clothing or entertainment. Being from a rich family, and the richest in the Hoshido neighborhood, certainly had its perks. Not to say his life was 100% glamorous — there was the occasional pick-on action at school, and his family was just as the same as any other house family you’d see, except, well, _obnoxiously_ large. Still, he could not deny his thankfulness for his fortune — and as he looked out the window and saw the old, grayed 2008 Chevy Impala pull up onto his home’s driveway from out the window, he bolted from his bedsheets, eager to greet the driver.

The door opened before Hisame could even get his whole body out of the driver’s seat. Kiragi rushed up towards him, obviously brimming with the same excitement as any other day, as he hopped around him, still acting like a complete child (he had nothing to hide, anyways. Hisame had experienced Kiragi thick and thin, young to present day. He knew what Kiragi cried about when he was in his infancy, and what subjects frustrated him in grade school. Something, however, that Hisame was completely oblivious about, or so Kiragi believed, was Kiragi’s ever growing affections for him — and Kiragi prayed to the gods above that Hisame was not.)

Hisame only rolled his eyes at Kiragi’s boisterous way of acting, like he did often. It was the way their friendship worked — even though Kiragi distasted the way Hisame suddenly shifted from being his closest friend to a cold, calculating, study-hard individual, he was still the same old boy he knew from years and years ago on the inside. Kiragi, like Hisame, knew all his ways around him, after all — and thankfully, emotions were on Kiragi’s side. He could read Hisame like an open book, for sure. Logic was in Hisame’s favor, but would that help him to decipher Kiragi’s emotions?

Kiragi didn’t want to think about it. He simply slid over the hood of the vehicle and landed both feet on the concrete, pulling open the passenger door and climbing inside. Hisame, whom held no complaints as he was familiar with this routine, tumbled back inside, strapping his seatbelt on immediately.

“Seatbelt, Kiragi,” Hisame said, apathetically, since it was only to be expected to come out of his mouth. Kiragi grinned, pulling on the seatbelt’s handle and pretending to pull it on, both hands pressing down onto the straps. Hisame sighed under his breath, knowing of this repeated process, aware of what was happening and not allowing himself to be fooled for the 100th time. “Actually put it on, Kiragi.”

Kiragi groaned, acting displeased but knowing such was what was to come — it was their little game, after all. Kiragi was sure that the amusement that came out of such wasn’t one sided … but as the days passed, everything between the two boys became more and more distant. Hisame, finding no time for Kiragi’s childish antics, and Kiragi, too busy in a realm of carefree sunshine to focus on anything harsh. They lived in opposite worlds, these two, and Kiragi was sure, if it wasn’t for that decided fate of their fathers, that they would not be 10 feet near each other.

But that’s simply not how things played out, of course. They were still childhood friends — that was what they were, and that was how Hisame viewed it, or so Kiragi thought. Hisame … didn’t feel anything stronger than the bond of friendship. And even so, that bond that was once strong as a knot, was becoming looser and looser by the year, month, week, day, hour, minute, second — it was all falling apart, and Kiragi, without the favor of logic, had no idea what to do. And he was falling more and more in love with him, with every second, minute, hour, day, week, month, year, he spent as Hisame’s “friend”. Hisame’s “friend”. Hisame’s childhood friend. That was the way Hisame would see him, and that was it. Never, never, never, would there be anything more.

Kiragi lingered on the silence that followed the two after Hisame pulled out of the driveway, rolling up to end of their street, Kiragi reading its name to himself. There wasn’t exactly a silence, per se — the radio was humming on the old tunes radio station that Hisame refused to change, unbothered to indulge in the music of today’s century like Kiragi did.  The volume was always a reasonable level — but today, the radio was murmuring quieter than usual, Kiragi barely making out the tune and lyrics to the Beatles’ “Blackbird” as Hisame pulled forward after checking for no cars in the way, beginning to cruise towards the exit of the neighborhood.

“…Hisame?” Kiragi’s voice peeped, almost a whisper, like the tune on the radio was muttering, but it did not pass Hisame’s senses — Kiragi’s voice was one of the lighter things in the old Impala. The car lingered of a forest-esque scent provided by the Little Tree, hung on Hisame’s rearview mirror, which Kiragi had picked up himself from one of their trips to a Home Depot. And if not, it usually shrouded with the scent of pickles being carried in the trunk, since often times, Hisame would give away his pickles to a homeless shelter or some other place where his pickles would do good — Kiragi recalled an older man, who looked in between being old and being middle-aged, named Shura, who lived in Kohga Homeless Shelter, the homeless shelter nearest to their neighborhood, the one that Hisame visited the most. Shura often did complement Hisame for his pickling abilities, and when Kiragi tagged along, he made sure to throw on an apron and gloves and help Hisame out in the kitchen — those were the times, the good old days.

“What is it, Kiragi?” the voice of the other was surprisingly filled with concern, something that caught Kiragi off guard for a moment. He expected just a ‘what?’, usually harsh as if Kiragi was still a little kid, that was getting on his nerves. But with the way that Hisame’s eyes flicked towards Kiragi’s way, still focused on the road, made Kiragi feel like he was undeniably worth Hisame’s attention — that brought is hopes up a teensy bit. Kiragi then shifted in his seat, playing with his fingers and shrugging, and after realizing Hisame couldn’t really see his gesture, he spoke up to voice his thoughts.

“Oh, ehehe, nothing, it’s just…,” He trailed, trying to find better words to express himself, but couldn’t quite. He was aware he was acting oddly out of character, and it was dangerous in this setting, not only for their friendship’s safety but for their physical safety, since Hisame was attempting to both listen to the road and to what Kiragi was about to tell him. He rushed himself, smiling to try and shake off any suspicion or worry. “Ah, nothing, never mind. Where are we going today, Hisa?”

There was certainly a wave of oddity that radiated from the boy, replacing his usually sunny exterior, and Kiragi could tell that Hisame was soon to say something about the topic, but shut his mouth. Instead, he stopped, looking through the rearview mirrors for any other cars as he passed into a more bustling part of town, where more people were evident, and shook his head.

“The library, then groceries,” Hisame simply explained, nodding towards a folded up paper in one of the cupholders, which Kiragi picked up and took a glance at. It was common that Kiragi was the one to help Hisame with errands — even though Hisame insisted that he would get more work done alone, both knew that was incredibly false. Especially in the library — Hisame was sure to get lost in the reading selections without someone aiding him to continue on with his chores. The same went vice versa with grocery shopping — and they simply got more work done working together. Not to mention, it was easy for them to work together, too, since they were aware of how the other functioned — it was simply their common knowledge.

“Okie doke!” Kiragi nodded after looking over the list Hinata had written for them — a basic array of necessary items, like milk, eggs, the like. Written at the bottom after all of Hinata’s sloppy handwriting was Hisame’s neat calligraphy in favor, listing items that Hinata did forget or items for himself — pickles caught his eye, of course. Pickles was always on the list, sometimes in Hinata’s handwriting, but mostly in Hisame’s. There were other unsaid things, too — usually stuff that Kiragi snuck into the cart, like a wrapped fruit treat or a pack of tic tacs. He was never too stupid to sneak something that cost more than three dollars onto the conveyer belt — he had learned that the hard way, and when Hisame looked over the receipt and saw a back of trident gum on the list, he only lightly scolded Kiragi for it, and then took a stick for himself as “tax”, as he called it.

Kiragi giggled as he shifted in his seat, looking out the window. The sky that day was overcast — it was late autumn, and the leaves on trees were slowly dying for the winter, and rain became more and more frequent — soon enough, that rain would turn into snow. Kiragi had always preferred the summers over the winters, mainly because of the longer school break and his birthday — but also because the sun was one of his best friends. Cold did not very much appeal to him — but of course, he always looked for the silver lining in all things. In the winter, there was snow! And sledding! And his father’s birthday! And New Year’s! Christmas! Valentine’s Day! … Valentine’s Day.

That only redirected the boy back to his feelings of his friend — it was true, he had tried to get to Hisame on those days, but always ended up chickening out. Valentine’s Day was a day for lovers, not for one friend to approach the other and laugh and say “let’s hang out!”. No, Hisame would have surely gotten the wrong idea, especially since Kiragi felt extra nervous and embarrassed the last year — he was thankful Hisame was too caught up in a book to really care about what Kiragi’s visage was displaying, as he quietly watched the romance movie at Hisame’s house, not really wanting to do much else other than fill the gap between him and his childhood friend, whom was indulged in text.

Kiragi snuck more quick glances at Hisame, hoping he was not acting too bashful around him for his taste, placing the grocery list back into the cup-holder, neatly folded like Hisame would have wanted. Kiragi wanted to turn the music louder, to drown out the silence that fell again in the car, the song faintly murmuring Queen’s “Don’t Stop Me Now” (which, on a side note, was one of Kiragi’s favorite “oldie” songs,) now, but couldn’t bring himself to — he’d feel too guilty, like he was entrusting someone else to figure out the tension between the two. Kiragi then exhaled, opening his mouth to say something to fill the void, but was once again ultimately halted by sight of Hisame.

Hisame’s undeniable beauty, first off. He had just tucked a strand of hair behind his ear, which evidently fell back into its original place, but it was enough to send Kiragi’s heart flying. Hisame’s entire sideshot was completely enamoring to him — he could have been a model for a Greek statue and Kiragi would have believed it. The way his jaw, etched itself firmly, and the plump, posh, yet pale lips of his that Kiragi could never muster up the courage to approach. The hollow in between the side of his nose, and the sharpness of its bridge. The gorgeousness of the way his eyes slit and slanted, almond-shaped and nearly cat-like — and ebony eyes that Kiragi would only dream of holding close to him for more than three seconds. Hisame was definitely beautiful. He was … he was beautiful. A pretty boy.

Kiragi differentiated boys into levels of how he found them attractive — the hot boys, the pretty boys, and the cute boys. He was a cute boy, through and through — even if girls, or possibly other boys, didn’t see him as cute, that’s what he believed he was. Shiro was definitely a hot boy, as well as Siegbert, who was an odd mix of hot and pretty. Forrest was a pretty, Asugi was hot, Percy was cute, Dwyer was someone Kiragi couldn’t quite place into any sort of category — and Hisame, like said, fell into the “pretty” category.

Besides his odd ways of categorizing boys, Kiragi leaned forward in his seat, pulling upon the seatbelt and squinting for sights of the library, even though he could decipher where it was just by the surrounding sights. He had lived in the town of Valla for his entire life — and so has Hisame. He recognized every building, shape, scene — but couldn’t quite remember the name of streets or exact numbers. He remembered visually, not numerically. That was Hisame’s job.

As Hisame pulled forward down the street Kiragi began to strike up the more common conversation between them, attempting to excuse any sort of awkwardness from the car. Hisame’s voice was always flat and seemed uninterested, but likewise, Kiragi felt thankful that he was even responding at all — and he could tell that Hisame too was grateful for Kiragi’s initiative with talking and communication. Kiragi always felt it was his job to keep the two intact emotionally — therefore, it was Hisame’s job to keep it in tact logically, with these sort of methods for hanging out with one another and the like. That was the way things worked. And Kiragi knew, deep down, somewhere in his heart that perhaps this was the way it was going to be for as long as the two did not find another to fill their roles. A significant other. Someone that Kiragi did not want to call any other name other than “Hisame”. Never, never, never.

Their conversation was filled with the usuals — Kiragi asking about Hinata, Hisame asking about Kiragi’s homework, exchanging their experiences while apart from each other, the like. It irked Kiragi that they even had to talk about what they were doing while the other wasn’t around to begin with — it used to be unsaid, because they always were _with_ each other. But even so, even if they weren’t right next to each other, their lives becoming one entity, they could always predict what the other would say. It was easy. _What did you have for lunch, Hisame? — Well, I had- — Self-prepared tsukemono. I know, ahah! — Then why did you even ask? — Cause I know what you’re gonna say._

Eventually the two young teenagers pulled into the mostly vacant parking lot of the library, those inside like Hisame, highly concerned for their grades, likely looking for peace and quiet from their bustling home, or perhaps some other reason that was unknown to the two of them. As Kiragi exited the car boisterously, Hisame followed suit, calmly and more composed, his own library books tucked in hand as Kiragi gestured for Hisame to move onto the sidewalk. Hisame stepped up, joining the boy as Kiragi skipped merrily, Hisame taking on a more normed saunter as he glanced down as Kiragi.

“Do you ever tire of accompanying me on my errands?” Hisame voiced, causing Kiragi to revert to a more normal walk as he looked up at Hisame. He tilted his head, obviously perplexed with such a question — still, he had no room not to answer, nor no reason to not.

“Nope! I love — hanging out and taking care of chores with you, Hisame!” He insisted, jogging up further in front of the brunette, walking backwards and flashing a friendly, radiating smile.

He was glad he saved himself from awkwardness. He almost followed that “I love” with a “you”. Forbidden words, those were, and Kiragi knew it. He knew it in his mind, and soul and body and heart, and the blood that rushed in his veins and the feelings that cramped his time. Taboos of words he’d never find the right moment to say.

Never, never, never.

 

**Author's Note:**

> thank you for reading! kudos are highly appreciated.


End file.
